Breathe
by avengerteam
Summary: Tony was sitting with his head resting on the low patio railing, leaning slightly sideways into a nearby chair and curling in on himself. Both arms were wrapped carefully around his ruined chest, moving slightly every time he inhaled. Everything about him bespoke pain.


It had been nearly two hours.

Tony was sitting with his head resting on the low patio railing, leaning slightly sideways into a nearby chair and curling in on himself. Both arms were wrapped carefully around his ruined chest, moving slightly every time he inhaled. Everything about him bespoke pain.

The genius' breaths were shallow and rattling in his chest. In... Out... he moved only to doggedly pull oxygen into his huddled form, otherwise remaining a perfectly static constant against the chaotic, shifting ocean in front of him. He coughed slightly, a harsh dry bark, face tightening as the air left his lungs, sitting up a miniscule fraction to clear his airway, then returning to his hunched pose.

The air was devoid of water, dry and sharp and hot in the oppressive California drought. Far in the distance, rain clouds could be seen through the heat shimmer, gathering over the Pacific Ocean. Already, the low pressure system was beginning to sweep into the mainland, the harbinger of cooler times to come, but bringing forward with it the old, deep seeded aches inflicted in another dry, sharp, hot nightmare.

The slight billionaire took a deep, wheezing breath, lifting his head and rocking back as if to get up and leave, but seemed to lose the ability to move halfway through the motion, slumping back down and pitching forwards, elbows resting on his knees, one hand limply over where his missing sternum used to be.

Time passed.

His breathing became harsher, more labored, and he wrapped his arms farther around himself, as if they were the only thing holding his broken body together. The cold blue light that sat centered in his chest mocked the heat, pulsing white hot and icy cold with every beat of his ruined heart, a sharp contrast to the arid yellow air pressing in on all sides.

Again, he tried to push himself up, out of the short patio chair, and again his body seemed to rebel against him, dragging him back down to rest against the arm of the chair and forcing him to cough. The dry air fought with his lungs, sending small quakes of pain down his body.

There was a small sound, like a pebble falling from a child's hand, as the door behind him slid open without a request from the shaking billionaire.

A small breeze, and the slight touch of a large, cautious hand on the hunched form's shoulder.

"Tony? Jarvis called my cell phone and asked..." The voice trailed off as it found the genius' eyes; swampy with pain and deadened with memory. "Jesus."

Tony coughed again, his body shaking as it was robbed of energy and oxygen, and worked to pull himself into a slightly more dignified upright position.

"...dry..." he breathed. Swaying minimally, he also nodded out towards the low pressure system moving steadily towards the pair on the mansion patio.

"Jarvis said you've been out here for a couple hours and couldn't get inside." Gentle hands and nimble fingers touched Tony's nearest wrist, taking a pulse reading before carefully sliding toward Tony's shoulders, supporting and helping as he slowly sat up a few more centimeters. "He sounded concerned; I think you've scared him a little."

Tony's lips quirked and he released his chest with one hand long enough to wave it in a throwaway gesture of fond exasperation before resealing his arms around himself. Tony hissed a little as his guest helped lift him to his feet, sliding an arm carefully under Tony's shoulder and around his back, trying to avoid placing pressure on his scarred chest or the arc reactor residing withing, taking up space where there should have been muscle and bone.

Under the hot sun and the looming rainclouds, the pair moved slowly toward the glass doors of the Malibu mansion, stopping every few meters to allow Tony's harsh breathing to settle.

The doors slid open to receive them, closing as soon as the pair shuffled past the threshold and sealing with a hum. A centimeter at a time, Tony's rescuer helped him ease into the nearest sofa.

"Jarvis, increase the humidity. Slowly, please." There was a soft brush of air against Tony's cheek as the air currents changed and he closed his eyes, his face tense with pain, waiting for the air to become softer. Moments later, he was startled into opening them when fingers again took his wrist, seeking out the veins and arteries. There was a small hum of approval and the concern in the eyes watching him lessened a little, the fingers vanishing.

The tall man crossed the room to the spacious kitchen, filling a glass with water and bringing it back to where the genius remained slumped on the couch. He supervised the first few sips, then seemingly abandoned his host, wandering in apparent aimlessness around the room, absorbing the architecture and watching the clouds blacken further above them.

Tony coughed, and his guest was back at the genius' side in an instant, taking the water glass and silently letting Tony lean against him as Tony shuddered against the aching pain that twisted his body and locked his arms once again around his torso.

The rain began to fall softly, tapping on the plate glass windows that made up several of the room's walls.

"Watch the rain?" The genius asked, his voice unsteady and rough and clearly unable to handle more than a handful of words, despite the cautious increase in the room's cool humidity. Nodding, the slender man slid around the couch and rotated it so it was facing the window behind it, clearly preferring moving the burden of both couch and billionaire together than making Tony get up again.

Apparently assured that Tony was not going to stop breathing altogether, at least for the moment, the tall man left the room. There was a rattling of doorknobs and several bumps and some murmured words with Jarvis. Then he was back, a bottle in hand and an oxygen tank with its mask in tow, pouring two small pink pills into his palm with callused fingers.

He placed them in Tony's palm, retrieving the glass of water from where he had left it on the floor and watching as Tony carefully swallowed the medication. Unhooking the mask from the tank, he guided it onto Tony with feather-light fingertips, careful not to snap the elastic as he settled it around Tony's head.

Turning on the tank, he watched as Tony's breaths because easier still, fogging up the plastic mask and soothing the genius' harsh inhalations. Tony gave a small noise of relief as the oxygen allowed him to relax his cramped position a little, easing some of the ache in his chest.

When the medication and the rain noise worked their magic and Tony finally fell asleep an hour later, the man carefully scooped him up, letting the mostly-unconscious genius partially support himself as they moved. Tony was soon arranged on the nearest bed, slumped on a pile of pillows to avoid pressure on his ruined chest, the air humid and just the right temperature.

He left two more pills and another glass of water on the table next to the bed and left the room. Perching on the couch that, until a few moments ago, Tony had been occupying, Clint waited for Tony to wake up, secure in the knowledge that his teammate would see another day.

**Hugs and kisses for everyone who tells me what they think! **

**Just a little one-shot with some whump and Clint friendship for Tony. I know I'm in the middle of "Live and Let Die," but I couldn't get rid of it. **


End file.
